


Not A Problem

by Welsh_Woman



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: CompetencyKink!Derek, Getting Together, M/M, Monster of the Week, Slice of Life, Stiles Is Good At Things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-10 20:49:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8938579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Welsh_Woman/pseuds/Welsh_Woman
Summary: Derek is beginning to realize he might have a thing for Stiles showing how competent he really is...





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyDrace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyDrace/gifts).



> This was posted on Tumblr a little while ago for ladydrace when she requested CompetencyKink!Derek and I decided to move it over here as well, because I'm actually kinda proud of how it turned out.
> 
> It's unbetaed, so if anyone spots any errors, feel free to point them out to me!
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Derek knows that Stiles is good at researching, has asked him multiple times to look up something or the other for him, and is intimately familiar with the rant that follows asking for help whenever Stiles has ‘other plans’.

(Those plans are usually some type of ‘one-on-one quality Stiles self-love time’ because Stiles is nothing if not _vocal_ about his sex life when it is interrupted, manners the first thing to go out the window, with Derek following shortly after.)

The point is Derek _knows_ that Stiles is good at researching and finding out things on the internet in ways that Derek _swears_ has something to do the Emissary training Stiles’ doing with Deaton, but there is something completely different between knowing that Stiles is good at researching and _seeing_ him do it firsthand.

The man is a whirlwind of movement as he practically _dances_ between his computer, a horde of books from Deaton that the man mysteriously ‘had on hand’, and the Bestiary that Stiles and Lydia are putting together. It’s a bizarre setup that Derek has tried to make sense of once before and ended up with a headache that actually _stuck around_.

Stiles, on the other hand, just moves around this mess like a wolf through his forest and Derek can only stare in awe as the younger man works through this calamity to find whatever bit of lore they need in mere seconds, his mouth and hands never holding still for a minute.

Derek doesn’t realize that he’s staring until Stiles does one of his chair-twirl-leaps and spots him standing in the middle of the doorway to Stiles’ room, a snort and a “Finally figured out how to use a door, Sourwolf?” following after.

For a moment, Derek is sure that something about the way he’s standing or the look in his eyes gives him away, but then he reminds himself that while Stiles is observant, he still is only human and has human senses to guide him.

It’s one of the few times that Derek is grateful for that fact when Stiles huffs out a breath and goes to one of the many piles of papers he has spread across his bed.

“Hey, I know it isn’t pretty, but it gets the job done.” Stiles is just as quick to pick up the papers as he was to spread them out, but there is a sharpness to his movements that wasn’t there before. “Is that going to be a problem?”

“No,” Derek growls, barely moving his lips to keep his fangs from showing, fingers twitching with the need to pin Stiles down to see if he would be just as capable in getting free. “It’s not a problem.”

Stiles looks like he doesn’t believe him, but thankfully decides to let the matter drop.

Derek breathes deep through his nose-immediately regretting the action when he gets a hint of what Stiles was doing before he called-and tries to ignore the heat in his stomach as he enters the room.

\------------

It doesn’t come up again until they’re actually at _Derek’s_ house a few weeks later, the entire Pack sprawled in various states of rest around the living room and Stiles asks what their plans are for food.

There are various noises of paying for takeout, several people chiming in that they want a pizza, all of which is only making Stiles more and more frustrated as time goes on. This, in turn, confuses _Derek_ because Stiles has been one of the _loudest_ howlers for pizza and soda to be the major food groups every time they’ve hung out together.

“Seriously, guys?” There is a huff and then Stiles is leaving the living room and going to the kitchen, the sound of multiple drawers being opened as things are being thrown about, Stiles’ voice only audible to the werewolves in the room that care to listen. “ _I already have to take care of my **Dad’s** heart, I don’t need to take care of the lot of you too_ …”

Curious as to what has made such a drastic change in attitude in the younger man, Derek follows Stiles into the kitchen as the rest of the Pack start fighting over what movie they’re going to watch, Lydia fighting for the latest Nicholas Sparks film.

Which they’re probably going to end up watching, because Lydia has the tenacity of a feral ‘wolf when it came to something she wanted, arguing circles around the rest of them until they give into her demands.

Tuning out the argument going on behind him, Derek instead focuses on the man in front of him that has somehow managed to find an assortment of items that go well enough together in a pot, so much so that’s already giving off smells that make Derek’s mouth water almost the instant they hit his nose.

“What are you making?”

Stiles jumps at his question, obviously not expecting anyone to follow him, and spins in a way that nearly has him falling into the pot if not for Derek’s supernatural agility.

Flushing at the smirk Derek sends him, Stiles pulls away from Derek’s hands and snaps, “It’s a recipe I found that’s really good for you and tastes pretty decent as well.”

Derek blinks. “You cook?”

“ _Stiles is cooking_?!?” There’s the distant thud of a body hitting the floor and a mumbled complaint before Scott is in the kitchen with a look like a pup before their first run. “ _Dude_ -”

Stiles pulls away from Derek’s grip to point at this best friend. “Just this _once_ , man! I was with my Dad when he had his physical today and they told him that, while his cholesterol was good, it would’ve been better if we had him the diet he’s on now when he was younger. So, instead of all the pizza and soda that we would’ve eaten tonight, I’m gonna make us something healthy… We didn’t make it through hell just to keel over from a heart attack.”

Scott uses the hand that’s pointing at him to pull Stiles into a one-armed hug, complete with a pat on the back and a “No problem, bro.” as Lydia comments-because his Pack is still a bunch of nosey teenagers and followed Scott into the kitchen-that she knows of a few healthy places that deliver, if they were willing to chip in a bit more for it.

While the rest of them talk about the differences between a ‘wolf’s metabolism and a ‘regular’ human’s, Stiles turns to Derek with his arms folded over his chest like he’s about to argue something to death before stating. “And yes, I can cook. I’ve been doing it for a while now-”

“-and he’s kickass at it!” is Scott’s helpful contribution to this conversation, complete with a high five for his best friend.

Stiles’ lips quirk towards a smile as he accepts it before straightening again when his gaze flicks back to Derek. “-and I happen to _like_ doing it. Is that going to be a problem?”

Derek shakes his head, fighting off the need to wrap his arms around Stiles and curl up in the warmth he knows he will find there, knowing that he’ll be rebuffed at best, teased at worse...

The way Lydia is looking at him gives him the strength to actually take a step backwards, even as he answers Stiles’ question.

“No, it’s not a problem.”

The food does, in fact, turn out to be as kickass as Scott had promised.

It’s still not a problem, but Derek is starting to realize that it might be something he should keep to himself for now, given that Lydia keeps looking at him throughout the night.

\-----------

Derek is in pain.

Shifting his arm in an attempt to push himself to his feet makes him reevaluate that statement.

Derek is in _a lot_ of pain.

The creature over him roars in triumph as it gets closer and Derek _really_ tries to get up again, to make some sort of last stand, but all that does is send a fresh wave of agony through him that makes a hurt noise finally slip past his lips in a pathetic whimper.

The creature is coming in faster now, smelling blood and hearing defeat making its movements jerky and eager. Derek closing his eyes as the thoughts in his head bound from anger that _this_ is what kills him to despair that he never found the courage to-

There’s another sound of pain and it takes Derek a few minutes to realize that it isn’t coming from him this time.

It takes him another second to open his eyes and when he does, he’s not sure _what_ he’s seeing.

No, it’s not that he doesn’t know what he’s seeing, it’s that he can’t _believe_ what he’s seeing; Stiles is standing in between him and their Monster of the Week, a look of fury covering the features that Derek can see, one hand wrapped in a green aura to match the one covering the creature.

A creature that is currently _**floating six feet in the air**_.

Then Stiles speaks in a tone that sends a hot shiver through Derek’s body, a tone that says _protection_ , _mine_ , and _danger_.

A tone that reverberates with the power of an _Alpha_.

“Don’t. You.  **Dare.**  Touch. Him.”

A flick of the wrist sends the creature flying into the darkness with a echoing howl that suddenly cuts off with a sickening crunch that Derek doesn’t really have time to think about before Stiles is spinning around to race to his side.

“Derek, can you hear me? Come on man, are you okay?”

He can do nothing more than stare, everything in his body telling him to roll over, bare throat and let the man hovering over him do whatever he wants, whatever will please him…

“Come on, Derek, don’t tell me you’re pissed that you had to be saved by the puny human and are giving me the silent treatment?”

“Trust me, Stiles,”-and that’s Boyd’s voice, when did Boyd get here?-“that’s not the problem.”

It sounds like Stiles is starting to ask a question, but Boyd decides to lift Derek up at that point and the resulting pain shooting through his body causes him to remember just how messed up he is, so Derek decides that it might be better if he just passed out.

Stiles doesn’t bring it up later and Derek is too busy being relieved to consider asking _why.._.

\-------------

The universe hates him.

Derek knows that it might sound like he’s being a bit dramatic, but Stiles has even said that once is an incident, two’s a coincidence, and three’s a pattern. It’s been a few more times than just three, so Derek knows for _sure_ that the universe hates him.

He really can’t think of any other reason for Stiles Stilinski to be standing in front of him with a baby in his arms, hands gentle and certain as he rocks the kid with this smile on his face that is _doing things_ to Derek.

“I can’t believe that there are _sickos_ out there that would just _sell kids_ , like they were shoes or… or… _toys_ or something! This little guy isn’t some new fad for some sick pervert’s enjoyment, are you, little guy?”

Dear God, Stiles is now _tickling the kid’s stomach_ and the kid is absolutely _loving_ the attention, giggling at the gentle press of fingers and grabbing at Stiles’ hand.

“When did you get so good with kids, Stilinski?” Erica purrs, walking over from where they… _dealt_ with the people responsible for this little operation. “You got a secret you wanna tell us?”

“Hardly,” Stiles scoffs, still grinning at the child in his arms and making it really hard for Derek to concentrate past the fact that Stiles looks-and smells- _so happy_. “I have a few aunts and uncles with a couple of kids that I’ve babysat once or twice.”

“Well, maybe you should put the baby down for a bit, Derek looks like he’s about to burst right here on the floor.”

And just like that, every bit of happiness that was coming from Stiles stops so suddenly that even the kid in his arms knows that something is wrong, the little one sniffling and whimpering in a way that almost immediately grabs Stiles’ attention.

Derek uses that moment to give Erica a glare that has her cowering before also using the fact that Stiles is distracted to get as far away from the possible fallout as he can.

However, because this is Derek’s life and nothing ever goes his way, a hand grips his shoulder and spins him around right as he’s opening the Camaro’s door.

It’s Stiles, because _of course_ it’s Stiles, and he’s angry and frustrated and confused, all of those chemosignals hitting him like waves as Stiles rants into the silence.

“I don’t _understand_ you, what the _hell_ was so bad about me holding a freaking _baby_? Was it because it was a _‘wolf_ baby? Was I getting my pathetic _humanness_ all over them?”

A sour, sharp note has entered Stiles’ scent, chemosignals switching from anger to disappointment and _shame_ , practically pulling the words from Derek’s throat. “ _No_! Stiles, that wasn’t it. It’s not a problem for me if you-”

“Then what _is_ it? You’ve been acting weird for a _while_ now, ever since you came to my room a couple of months ago-”

Derek can’t do anything as Stiles paces in front of him, knowing that the man will figure it out, because Stiles is smart and able to pull together pieces of a puzzle with the brilliance of a savant…

“-I mean, I understand you being surprised about the cooking, because I never really have time to do it all that often and you live like a freaking caveman-”

Running will just lead to more problems, and the possibility of Stiles going after this like a wolf hunting a kill, so Derek waits. Waits for that wonderful mind to put the pieces together and realize just _what_ Derek has been keeping from him.

“-but then, there was that Jabba-The-Hutt-Freddy-Kruger love-child thing that we fought off and Boyd said that you weren’t pissed, but all the research that I’ve done said that you were being submissive after I threw that thing off you and there’s only one-”

It’s a little fascinating to see a solution come to being in Stiles’ eyes, watch them widen as facts come together and a mystery finally makes sense to him, to see his mouth drop into this little moue of understanding before it curls into a word of surprise.

The word in this case neatly split into two by Stiles’ shock.

“Mother. Fucker.”

Derek can’t speak, despite trying to find some to get out of this conversation, some quip or snark that will turn Stiles’ attention to other things long enough for Derek to make him forget it even happened in the first place.

Stiles, however, is never one to let silence stand and doesn’t let it stop him now, even though his voice is uncharacteristically soft as he asks, “Derek? Were you… were you submitting to me because you _liked_ the fact that I threw that guy fifty feet?”

“I’m-” He can’t get any more out, because Stiles is already waving his arms and talking a mile a minute, his emotions jumping from one to the next too fast for Derek to make sense of them.

“That can’t be it, because you had the same look on your face at least two other times, and we weren’t fighting for our lives then, so-”

Once again, Stiles cuts himself off as a theory becomes fact and once again, Derek can practically see the pieces come together for him, clicking into place like a loaded gun.

“I’m sorry.” Derek blurts before Stiles can aim that gun and destroy him with it. “I don’t know why- I can stop- I won’t-”

“Hey, hey, hey…” And suddenly, Stiles is in his space, his hands gripping the front of his shirt and the side of his neck, almost a complete mirror of the first time that Derek was this close to Stiles.

It’s grounding in a way that Derek never thought he’d get again and he isn’t even thinking when he tilts his neck even more under Stiles’ gaze, his own eyes fixed on the sky above him to keep Stiles from seeing the blatant _want_ in them.

There’s a sudden intake of breath and then Stiles is sliding his hand over to the exposed part of Derek’s neck, giving it an experimental squeeze that has a broken noise slipping from Derek’s lips before he can stop it.

Stiles answers with his own soft moan and then he’s whispering, “I’m pretty sure you can tell it’s _not_ a problem. _So_ not a problem. So very much _not_ a problem. It’s pretty much an _anti_ -problem at this point. _Jesus_ , Derek…”

And Derek just closes his eyes and lets himself relax into the grip on his throat, the body pressed against his, and the heartbeat thundering in time with his own.

After all, Stiles knows what he’s doing and, more importantly, Derek _trusts_ him.

He’s in capable hands.


End file.
